This Antic Disposition
by MusketWriting
Summary: Just a little idea that struck me ages ago when watching Black Jack, and found again on my laptop! Please let me know if you would be interested in me continuing this. A man is attacked in an alleyway, who is this dark stranger and what has he become mixed up in?


This Antic Disposition

Winter.

The time of year that does a convincing Marmite in the way it divides opinions, some love the fresh air that stings your skin and the festivities of Christmas, others despise the pitch-black mornings and the constant fear that the heavens would open and release a deluge of wet snow upon the hapless citizens of the world.

As is always the case, there are those who straddle the line between the two dichotomous opinions, those who are entirely ambivalent as to what season it is or who simultaneously love and hate aspects of winter.

The imposing figure stalking its way down a narrow alleyway bordered by shabby, boarded up cafes and shops is one of these enigmas. The only noise to be heard was the slight tapping of sensible black leather shoes against cobbles as he briskly strode along, head bowed and face shadowed by the wide brim of a hat. If they had been visible then it would be clear that despite appearances, he was not intently studying the ground as his posture would suggest, instead intelligent amber/ochre eyes scanned methodically from right to left perpetually keeping his surroundings in full view, nothing would get past this man.

If it hadn't been ridiculous o clock in the morning, this man would not have been alone in the alleyway, as it was, he could have been the only man left in the universe for how silent the streets of London were, not a soul or single living creature to be seen or heard. If there had been anyone there to witness his presence, they would have seen a tall, debonair man clad in a flattering tailored waistcoat, suit trousers and white shirt, all topped off with a red bowtie and coat as dark as pitch.

If they were of a nosy disposition and inclined to look closer they would have found themselves unable to tear themselves away from such striking features, but that is a description for another time or we'll miss all the action.

The silence of the alleyway was deafening and only served to set alarm bells ringing within his head, it was an unnatural silence, one that was thick with anticipation, almost suffocating in its intensity.

He had to tell his lungs to get a grip, sucking in a deep breath and feeling his chest rise satisfactorily and oxygen rush in, as he reminded himself he was breathing.

The simple fact that was causing him such disturbance was the absence of traffic, even if streets were deserted there would always be the soothing background rushing of cars whooshing by on the road.

What could possibly have completely eradicated any and all presence on the roads?

Gripping the brim of his hat between thumb and forefinger he tugged it more securely onto his head, tilting it to protect his face from the biting wind that was picking up and valiantly battering all in its path.

He had no chance to appreciate the momentary respite from his watery eyes as before he had even lowered his arm, a tremendous crash forced him to leap backwards, tipping his hat from his head in the process. A cry of pain issued from his lips as a tower of precariously stacked crates wobbled dangerously and proceeded to topple over, crushing him under their combined weight.

Thankfully, his evasive manoeuvre had allowed him to avoid being buried entirely, instead, his left leg was wedged beneath a couple, one had glanced his temple and the rest had splintered apart on the cobbles and covered him in lethal shards of wood.

"Damn" he cursed, jaw clenching to hold back a low moan of pain that threatened to erupt as fire lanced up and down his leg, "definitely fractured if not broken, I'd suspect the bone is pressing on a nerve, I can only hope no artery is trapped or I could lose the leg if circulation is disrupted"

"Mister, are you alright mister?" a quit voice asked tentatively from somewhere over to his left.

He was left blinking rapidly against blurry vision, his damaged head protested its rapid movement, as it cleared, the image of a dark haired young boy hovering over him came into focus. Pale skin was smudged with dirt and his clothes were tattered, patched and threadbare, it was clearly a case of serious neglect either that or he had managed to stumble across a street urchin.

That would be just his luck, attacked by a mysterious stack of crates and then robbed. He scolded himself for his pessimistic thinking and for automatically assuming the worst of this child, goodness only knew how close he had come to being that child.

"I'm fine" he managed to rasp hoarsely in response.

At a disbelieving raised eyebrow from the kid he sighed out a chuckle.

"Okay maybe fine is an overstatement, but I'm not going to die if that's what you're worrying about."

"That's good sir, but I was more concerned about you being in pain, how can I help you?"

"My bag, where is my bag? It was here a moment ago!" panic began to rise in his chest as his questing fingers met thin air, unable to comprehend how he could have misplaced such an essential belonging.

"The man took it" was the boy's simple response, shrugging and observing him with concerned blue eyes.

"Damn" he cursed again immediately feeling a hundred times less comfortable without his instruments, almost as if he were missing a limb. "how could this situation get any worse? Did you see where this man went?"

"Of course sir, he'll be in the bar where I met him earlier and he paid me to push those crates onto you"

Turning wide eyes back to the child he exclaimed "what!" casting his mind back over his actions, he knew many people existed with an axe to grind against him and who would not mourn his passing, instead jumping at any chance to revel in his misfortune. What he could not understand was the reasoning behind stealing his medical bag, of what use could it be to anyone else?

''I'm sorry mister" the boy did seem genuinely apologetic as he met his eyes, glimmering slightly with a sheen of tears.

A sharp pinch in his neck explained the boy's profuse pleading for forgiveness, a burning fluid flooding his veins. He felt his fingers begin to tingle unpleasantly and knew he only had seconds of awareness left, with the last of his strength he folded his fingers around a shard of crate.

If anyone had been around ten minutes later they would have been faced with an empty alleyway, no sign of any incident to be found. The shards of crate had been cleaned up and there was most worryingly an absence of full grown man.

A/N: Have decided to stop this here because I am not entirely sure how it is going! Please let me know what you think of this and if you would be interested in this continuing :D


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